her shelf
by Anrheithwyr
Summary: On the wall of Minerva McGonagall's sitting room was a shelf, made of simple wood, and a bit lopsided on the left side. She loved that shelf.


Attached to the wall in Minerva McGonagall's chambers of Hogwarts is a shelf. It is a simple shelf, made of a smooth, pale wood that Minerva does not know the name of.

It had been there since the early seventies, a present built by a man named Elphinstone Urquart, who had heard that Minerva enjoyed simple, hand-made gifts, and had thought it a lovely way to make yet another proposal to Minerva, who he was madly in love with.

She had turned him down, as always, but Elphinstone, whom Minerva had fondly taken to calling Elphin, had only smiled and insisted he would be back soon enough, something which Minerva did not doubt at all.

Though this had just been one of many projects from Elphin, Minerva thought she liked the shelf the most, because it smelled faintly of coffee and had done a very good job holding up a life's worth of memories for Minerva over the years.

It was not the largest of shelves, though it did take up a good portion of her sitting room's wall facing the door, and was often the very first thing that most people noticed when they first entered her quarters.

There had been many comment made about the shelf, which was held up by a bookcase, because Elphin, darling Elphin, had a big heart but had never been very good at building things with his own hands.

The shelf was slightly lopsided on it's left side, you see, and the first time Minerva had attempted to use it to hold her plants, everything had slid off and smashed to the ground.

She had considered bringing it up to Elphin, but had become so busy with her teaching duties that all thoughts of the shelf fled her mind, and Minerva eventually forgot altogether that the shelf was not fully functional until the next time she had tried to set a mug down on top and watched it fall to the floor, same as the pots.

At that point, Minerva had not seen Elphin in some months, and so decided to simply go out and buy a bookcase that fit neatly under the shelf so that she could finally use the silly thing instead of just letting it hang on her wall without ever doing anything.

The shelf was never dirty or dusty, as Minerva always made sure to dust it off every morning the muggle way, by hand, the way she had been taught by her mother.

It had sat in her quarters for nearly twenty years now, holding up years and years of memories, holding faded pictures of waving family members who had long ago passed, leaving Minerva with only these few pictures, such as the one of her mum, who always waved whenever Minerva came by to clean off the picture frame that held Mrs. McGonagall.

There were also the old paintings and drawings and essays of her nieces and nephews, the youngest of whom had graduated from Hogwarts only two years ago, her younger brother Malcom's youngest son, who had been a Gryffindor, as all of the McGonagalls had been since Minerva first started at Hogwarts in 1947.

There was the ring from her brief engagement to Dougal McGregor, a muggle farmer, who had passed away almost eight years ago, though Minerva had heard that his two daughters and wife were still doing well, running the farm that had once been promised to be Minerva's home.

Sitting next to Dougal's engagement ring was her wedding band, nestled in a box with Elphin's ring, the one that Minerva had finally accepted in 1982 when she was _much_ too old to even think about having children, the ring that Minerva had not been able to look at since she had moved out of her cottage at Hogsmeade; she had not gotten over her husband's death in the four years since it happened, and Minerva did not think she ever would.

The shelf held plenty of memories for Minerva, memories of family members long gone, memories of family members who were currently growing up and making their way through the world, and memories of lost loves that Minerva would never get back.

Her shelf was lopsided, and if she ever removed the bookcase, all of those memories would come toppling to the floor, shattering into a million pieces, and so, every morning, Minerva carefully dusted the shelf by hand, the muggle way as she had been taught by her mother many years ago, and made sure that none of those precious memories ever slipped.

Because the shelf and the items resting atop her shelf were the last thing she had left of Elphin, of her mother, of Dougal, and Minerva always kept it clean, because it was the last way she had to say _I love you_ to those who had gone on before her.


End file.
